Heat of the Moment
by Mali Bear's Buddy
Summary: They say you only get one first time with a new lover. That things can only be brand new once and there's no going back. But they're wrong...at least in my case. Because Sam Winchester and I had two. Ch.1 featuring Soulless!Sam!
1. Dead Inside

**A/N: **Those who read _10 Ways Sam Winchester's Been Kissed_ met Halley in the final chapter. This is her story...

I honestly don't understand why I find Soulless!Sam so utterly fascinating, but I do. I wanted to stretch my writing fingers a bit and do something different. The stunning differences in Sam seemed to be an excellent way to do that.

And, because I'm apparently a masochist, I'll be doing it in first person. _Italics_ at the beginning and end of odd numbered chapters with be entries in Halley's journals and plain text in the middle will be her memory of the events. Even numbered chapters will be from Sam's POV. Please be kind and tell me what you think?

Many thanks to pal and beta **stephaniew** for her continued support and encouragement. After getting me through this one, I swear she has the patience of a saint! Be sure to check out her stuff if you haven't already!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Supernatural._

Chapter One: Dead Inside

_March 25, 2010_

_Writing has always been an outlet for me. It's the way I clear my head of jumbled thoughts. Sometimes it's as simple as making a list. _

_Tonight, I write because it's cleansing. I write because something happened to me. Something that I really can't share with anyone...at least in part because no one would believe me._

_My Daddy is the pastor of this sleepy, little town. I go to church every Sunday. I sing in the choir. I was raised on principles of salvation and the eternal damnation of hell. But angels and demons, things that go bump in the night? Is any of it really real? I didn't think it was. Certainly not until I found myself in the middle of it._

_Things have been strange for days. People have gone missing. There've been freak accidents. Bodies have been found exsanguinated but with little trace of their blood. _

_But it's usually so safe and calm here. Incredibly normal. So none of that stopped me from walking from the farm to my favorite spot - the covered bridge less than a mile from McGinty's Pub. That's where I met Sam. Or, more aptly, where he saved me..._

Walking down by the river in early spring is a favorite past-time of mine. The air is crisp and clean. You can breathe in the peace and quiet. Usually I can see the constellations from the bridge, tracing their starry outlines in the night sky. But tonight isn't as clear as I'd first thought. It's suddenly overcast. Thick, inky clouds stretch in eerie fingers across the moon.

Hearing footsteps behind me, I freeze. I see a shadowy outline moving behind me and I turn to run only to find my face buried in a man's chest. He towers over me. His hand closes roughly around my neck and he shoves me forcefully out of the way.

His teeth gleam in the moonlight. His smile is stone cold. It's hollow, sort of like that of a jack-o-lantern. He pulls a blade from beneath his jacket and, for a moment, I'm sure I've drawn my last breath. That I've become the killer's next victim.

Turning from me, he advances on the dark figure and thrusts the blade into it's belly. Red light shoots from its eyes and open mouth. There's a howl like that of a wounded or dying animal. Then, in a cloud of black smoke, the body disappears.

I scramble back to lean against the side of the bridge, but make no move to stand. My heart thundering in my chest, I press my hand to my forehead and look up at him. "What was that?"

He stares - a little too casually for my liking - at the blood coating his weapon before answering. "A demon."

I blink rapidly, trying to process this information. Sure, we'd talked about demons in Sunday School...but I'd always thought it was one of those things they said to keep us out of trouble and make us think twice about sinning. "Like from hell?"

"You should go home," he says. "It isn't safe."

I force myself to my feet, the soft soles of my flat shoes shuffling over the floor boards. I tilt my head trying to get a better look at him. He seems angry and impatient, but my curiosity gets the better of me. "Who are you?"

"Sam," he tells me. His tone is abrupt and he doesn't make eye contact.

No-last-name Sam is tall. At least a foot taller than me, probably more. His legs seem miles long. His hair is shaggy and I can't quite determine its color in the dim light. He's very easy on the eyes though. He has nice features. Features that would be entirely different on someone who wasn't so...empty.

I stick my hand out to him. I was raised next to a barn, not in one. "Thanks, Sam," I say. "I'm Halley."

He makes no move to accept my offering, so I shrug. "Okay, then..." I reply. Hooking my thumb over my shoulder, I point in the direction of the bar. "I'm just gonna..."

I begin to walk away, but turn back to him. My mother, God rest her soul, raised me better than this. I can't just leave him here. Not after he saved my life. "Can I buy you a drink or something?"

He follows me without a word. I glance at him when we hit the street lamps and watch as he scans the closed store fronts. McGinty's is the only thing open this time of night. I raise the back of my hand to cover my laugh when he notices we only have the one traffic light. When you're not used to being in a place this small, it's kinda like stepping back in time.

We walk in and the barkeep barely looks up from wiping down the mahogany counter in front of him. It isn't very crowded and rather than waiting for him to come to the table, I walk to the bar. Grabbing a couple of beers, I carry them over to the corner booth where Sam sits with his back to the wall. I realize he's chosen this spot to have a view of the entire room and it makes me shiver.

I don't usually drink. Maybe it's my upbringing, I don't know. But seeing what I'd just witnessed - noticing that Sam's on full alert - I _need_ something...and I'm not entirely sure beer is strong enough.

"So," I begin, toying with the napkin beneath the frosted mug in front of me. "If that was a demon, what does that make you? Some sort of angel?"

Sam smirks, jutting his chin out. "I'm a hunter."

My brow furrows. "A hunter?" I ask. "You mean there are more things like _that_ out there?"

"And shapeshifters, poltergeists, wraiths, skinwalkers," he shrugs. "But yeah, there're more demons. There's all kinds of stuff out there."

Definitely need more alcohol. The cool mug feels good in my hands, but it doesn't provide nearly enough of a distraction. "So you hunt...monsters?"

"Pretty much," he answers. I watch as he sips his beer, his tongue darting out to lick the foam off his upper lip. My head fills with impure thoughts and I find myself wondering what it'd be like to kiss him.

I drink from my glass, the cool liquid sliding down my throat but doing nothing to calm me. I gulp, wondering what has come over me. I don't think or act this way. It isn't like me to lust after a stranger. I'm beginning to wonder if Sam is like the things he hunts. I already know he's mysterious and a little dangerous.

He shifts, looking over my shoulder before turning slightly in the direction of the bar. I wonder if he's thinking about leaving. Men like Sam aren't interested in girls like me. We're too inexperienced to be appealing.

"Well," I stumble, preparing for what I'm sure is coming. "Sam, I...um...thank you for..."

"Halley." If it were possible for a man's voice to sound like chocolate, that's what I'd have called the first time he said my name. It was magic. Dark and sinfully rich like the candy bars you have to drive into the city for.

His eyes are hypnotic when mine connect with them. Or maybe it's my drink. I don't know. All I can tell you is that one minute, I am sitting on my side of the booth as Sam says practically nothing and the next, I am sitting beside him. His lips meet mine in a bruising kiss. His mouth is hard and firm, not unlike the toned lines of his muscular body.

My hands drift from his shoulders to his pectorals. I can feel the heat of his skin through his shirt. I gasp when his tongue enters my mouth, the sound serving to egg him on.

I panic. I'm sitting in a public place making out with a man I hardly know. My eyes open and I pull away and out of the trance he has over me. I nearly trip getting to my feet. Needing an escape, my eyes find the neon sign signaling the ladies' room. "I...I, um...I need a minute. Will you still be here when I get back?"

I really don't give him a chance to answer before hurrying to the door. I turn on the faucet and splash my face with cold water. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't me.

Looking in the mirror, I note my kiss swollen mouth and pinked cheeks. Cursing my fair skin, I also note the early signs of discoloration where Sam grabbed my throat. I take a deep breath only to find myself panting. Leaning against the vanity, I grip the porcelain edge until my knuckles go white. "Get it together, Hal..."

I nearly come out of my skin when I hear the door open and realize for the first time I neglected to lock it behind me. My pulse quickens when I see Sam standing with his back against the it. My eyes were probably the size of saucers at the gentle click of the lock sliding into place.

And then he's on me. His mouth hot and wet as it glides over mine. His fingers digging into my thighs, he lifts me, placing me on the edge of the counter. He forces my legs apart and, standing between them, grabs my braided hair, pulling my head back roughly to expose my throat.

He nips at my neck, scraping his teeth along my skin. The more I try to move away, the closer I seem to be drawn to him. His hands grip my hips as his lips make their way back to mine. "Come on, Halley," he says darkly. "You know you want it."

I can do nothing but moan. Part of me _does_ want this. Part of me wants very badly to feel something other than the rare but gentle caresses I'm used to. To escape the peace of my small town life and experience a little danger. But it's more than just that - I _need _to be held passionately and reminded that I'm alive. That I was saved - rescued from the darkness.

A bigger part of me feels dirty. I don't know this man. This isn't my home. It isn't even a motel. It's a public toilet in a place frequented by people I know and see every day. People I go to church with. People who know my father.

Sam tugs my sweater off and his lips cover mine all over again. My brain screams _No! Don't do this! _even as my body begs for him to take me. When I try to voice my thoughts, I find my mouth filled with his tongue and he takes down the straps of my camisole.

He takes my hands in his hair as encouragement, the chestnut strands slipping through my fingers as his mouth captures my nipple. I cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain at the savage suckling and scoring of his teeth.

Sam opens my jeans, licking his fingers before stuffing his hand into my pants. He strokes them into me, testing the readiness of my body. The moan that escapes when he gets me wet is primal and he spins me tighter and tighter...but not so tight that I break.

Yanking his own fly open, Sam guides my hand to his length. The engorged organ looks even bigger against my small palm. He reaches for something and in my lust blurred haze I see him tearing open the foil packet of a condom.

This is very real. It's definitely happening...and there's no assurance he'd stop if I asked him to. I'm not sure I have the strength to say no. His presence is dominating. Who could say no to someone who looked like that?

Sam pulls me off the vanity and my knees nearly buckle as he spins me around. He pulls my pants down just to my knees before entering me forcefully from behind, tugging me to him as he guides my hands to the counter. The weight of his thrusts is oppressive. The added friction from being unable to spread my legs further is maddening. It makes me ache. For more. For release.

There's no gentleness in his touch, not even in the way he rubs between my thighs. I want to stop him. I want to tell him no, that I can't take any more. But my body rebels. It greedily takes all of the punishment Sam gives me.

I catch his eyes in the mirror. They're cold and unfeeling, almost dead. Seeing his smile, the wicked and somewhat twisted glare he gives me, tears me apart. When he drops his head, sinking his teeth into the back of my neck, I scream. In ecstasy.

The rush of warmth I feel is overwhelming. It's overpowering. It makes me feel sick to my stomach and completely ashamed. Oh, God, what have I done? What have I allowed this man to do to me?

My eyes slam shut and I hear the sound of his clothes being righted. I hear the snick of his zipper and the lock sliding out of place. As quickly as he came into my life, Sam is gone. And I'm alone. Struggling with all my might to keep the tears from falling.

_After he left me at McGinty's, I came home and cleaned myself up. I cried as the pounding droplets of water from the shower head poured over my body. While the heat of it relaxed and calmed my muscles, it did nothing to clean away the memories etched into my brain...nor did it banish the bruises, bite marks and scrapes I was sure would be more prevalent in the light of day..._


	2. Lazarus Rising

**A/N: **Sorry for the long delay! I was in a car accident and the medication my doctor has me on makes me feel like a zombie. I didn't want to cheat any of my on-going stories, so I've stuck mainly to one-shots. I'm hoping that we're be back to a regular schedule now.

There's a special nod to my girl **stephaniew **in this one. She knows what it is even if no one else will. Love you, sweetie! Thanks for the laughs and smiles, the shared tears and moments of complete frustration...but most of all, thanks for being you.

Steph's got some great stuff for Sam - from a deleted scene for _Sex and Violence _called _Sam Plays Doctor _to her own Sam OC Callie! Check her out!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Supernatural_.

Chapter Two: Lazarus Rising

_June 5, 2011_

I hate that I'm so...broken. I got my soul back, but the images of things I've done haunt me. Especially the dreams of the blonde on the bridge.

I've tried to find her without much luck. I've scoured pictures of covered bridges. I've tried to backtrace the case. With Samuel gone and my memories scrambled, I've all but given up hope.

Jo's been looking, too. Not because I asked her, but because it's what she does. I don't deserve her help, but she insists that what happened in Duluth is long since water under a different bridge. I know she uses the metaphor to lighten things but I don't have the heart to tell her she's failing miserably. Not when I see what she's done for my brother. How she kept him from falling apart while I was gone.

My BlackBerry vibrates on the table beside me and I pick it up. It's an email from another hunter.

_Sam -_

_This seemed like it fit the case you posted. Hope it helps._

_Regards,_

_Tom_

There's a newspaper article attached to it. I open the file and the page that stares back at me tells the story of a small town minister who died in a mysterious accident. His loss shocked the town, but he wasn't the first victim.

What gets me isn't the man or the paper's description of him. It isn't a fact pattern or details about the town. That would all come later.

It's the picture at the very bottom. A young woman with the bluest eyes I've ever seen stares at the camera, her blonde hair hanging over the shoulder of her black dress in a long braid. As my coffee cup misses the edge of the table, spilling into my lap, I say her name. "Halley..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I watch Dean's face as he skims over the paperwork I've handed him. I feel guilty. Like a complete failure. This is a mess I need to clean up. Not just for Halley, but for myself.

"Dude," he says finally. "A Lazarus Demon? Are you sure?"

I sigh as Jo pulls the pages from Dean's hand. "I thought that was just a myth," she says, an eyebrow lifting.

"Look," I tell them. "I know what you said about not going to the same place twice. That people would remember. But I have to fix this, Dean. I have to make it right."

Dean scrubs his jaw as he thinks about it. He looks at the blonde beside him, waiting for her to say something. I grin in spite of myself. I never thought I'd see the day my womanizing brother would be so...whipped. But Jo has him wrapped around her little finger. They're happy. He's happier than I've ever seen him.

Jo scowls and pushes him roughly. "If you don't help him, I will."

Dean's gaze moves from Jo's to mine. "Just one thing first," he growls. "Is this about that damn girl?"

I don't answer. I can't. They already know the truth.

"Dammit, Sammy..." he mutters, shaking his head as his hand curls into a fist.

"You're unbelievable!" Jo yells.

Watching them fight is like watching a tennis match. She's the only woman I've ever seen give it right back to him. She keeps him on his toes. If I wasn't so concerned, I'd be laughing.

"I'm all about getting my brother laid, but he was a soulless bastard. We don't know what we're walking into. These...these nightmares? The ones where he attacks her? What if she..."

Jo glares at him before turning to me. "Pack your stuff," she says. "We'll only be a minute."

Shrugging, I turn and head for the stairs. I hear them continue to argue. I hear Jo tell Dean she understands why I have to do this. Explain why she thinks they should help me do it. I hear my brother growl and can almost see his snarl as he snaps that they've been on the road constantly for almost a month and haven't had time alone. It makes me feel worse. He's right. They've been taking care of me.

I shove clothes in a bag and check my weapons. There are more in the car, but there are a few I always keep with me. Like my knife. The one I thought killed the sonuvabitch terrorizing Halley's small town.

I slam my fist into the mattress as I drop onto the bed. I hate this. I hate that I'm broken. That having my soul back has crippled me. Left me with headaches and painful memories of all the crap I'm guilty of.

There's a knock at the door. It's Jo. She sits down beside me and pats my knee.

I sigh and my head drops back as I stare at the ceiling. "How pissed is he?"

"Enough," Jo snickers. "But he'll get over it. He always does."

"How'd you convince him?" I ask, realizing afterward that I probably didn't want to know.

A devilish smile graces her lips and her eyes twinkle. "I'm gonna plead the fifth."

Dean comes in. "You," he says, his face twisting into a frown as he looks at Jo. "Better be right about this." He turns to me. "And you. Get your own girlfriend."

Jo stands up and saunters past Dean. He's still focused on me when she claps a hand across his backside. "Hey!" he yelps. "What was that for?"

She grins and shakes her head. "You deserved it, Deano," she answers. "C'mon, boys. Let's get this show on the road."

It's moments like this I realize how lucky I am. As painful as being Humpty Dumpty is, there's nothing better than having a family and knowing love.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"So, basically, we find the demon's bones and burn them," Dean says as he locks the car.

"After we make sure Halley is safe," I answer as we walk toward the hospital, "but, yeah, that's the plan."

Before I can get my bearings, we're at the nurses' station and I hear Jo ask for Halley. My heart begins to pound and panic sets in. I try to stay calm. Try to settle down. But I can't. It's too much. This was a mistake.

"Sam?"

The softness of her voice is like a touch. It's soothing and makes me shiver. My eyes lock on hers. They're the color of the summer sky. Her cheeks are pink. She tosses her braided hair over her shoulder, her eyes clouding with confusion. Under my breath, the words escape. "I shouldn't have come..."

She looks at Dean and Jo. "You're here because it's back," she says softly.

Jo takes control of the situation. "Is there someplace we can talk?"

Halley nods and leads us into the empty break room. "Are you hunters, too?" she asks quietly, crossing her arms over her chest.

I can't breathe. I'm afraid I'll scare her. That she'll run screaming.

"Since the cat's got Sam's tongue," Jo says, "Let me make the introductions. I'm Jo and this is Sam's brother, Dean."

Jo continues to explain everything. The words don't sink in. I don't hear a word. The only thing I can focus on is Halley's face. She's more beautiful than I remembered. Small with a curvy frame that's visible even beneath her baggy scrubs.

Jo touches Halley's arm. "How much time can you take off? We'll need to get you out of here. We have a feeling this thing is gonna fixate on you."

She gulps. Looks like she's going to cry.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" I ask my brother.

Dean rolls his eyes. He brushes his lips over Jo's forehead. "Sure thing," he says before turning to Halley. "Stay here with Jo."

In the hallway, I look to make sure we're alone. "I'm not sure I can do this," I tell him. "Can't I go with you? Let Jo protect Halley?"

"You bought this one, Sammy," he says, finally letting me have it. "Jo and I haven't been here before. We can ask the questions and talk to people. You need to get out of town before too many people see you."

"So this has nothing to do with wanting to be with Jo?" I ask, crossing my arms.

The girls come out. Halley looks at Jo before making eye contact. Her gaze is filled with concern. There isn't an ounce of fear in her expression.

"I think it's best I go with you," she says after a long pause. "Jo says you're having headaches. I can help..."

My eyes shut and I feel my jaw tighten. "Jo..."

But it's Halley's voice that answers. "It's more than that, Sam." She touches my arm and I have to look at her. Her shy smile and slight shrug is my undoing. "At least I know you."

Dean smirks. "See, Sam? It'll all be just fine."

Jo glares and elbows Dean in the ribs. "Lay low and get outta town. We'll find the bones and roast 'em."

Halley takes a deep breath, waiting for Dean and Jo to walk away before speaking. "I just need to talk to the charge nurse. Wait for me?"

I watch the way she walks away. Casual. Unafraid. I envy that about her. I wonder how it's possible she feels that way. Why she would be reaching out to me after everything that's happened between us.

I feel sick. Terrified. Scared of what I've done to her. Scared of what I _could_ do to her. Worried that I won't be able to protect her. That being alone with her will leave me paralyzed. I gulp, trying to swallow down all the thoughts. To get them out of my system.

I see her talking to another woman. Someone older than either of us. She smiles and gestures toward me with a little wave.

I grin awkwardly and wiggle my fingers in answer. I feel my face grow hot. I'm far enough away that I can't hear their conversation, but I know where this is going.

And it isn't good.


	3. The Ugly Truth

**A/N: **YAY for the Sam Needs Love, Too Campaign! I really like this story and I've got a bunch of things planned for Sam and Halley. Stick with me and share your thoughts?

Many, many thanks to **stephaniew** for betaing and having my back. Steph's a great friend and a talented writer...show her some love and leave her some inspiring reviews? Let's get her writing again...I think it's my turn to play beta. ;)

**Reminder:** Even chapters will be Sam's POV and odd ones - like this - will be Halley's.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Supernatural._

Chapter Three: The Ugly Truth

_June 6, 2011_

_If you'd told me when he left that I'd see Sam again, I'd probably have laughed in your face and called you crazy. But the thing is back. He came to the hospital and I..._

_Before I knew what I was doing, I had agreed to go on the run with him while his brother hunted the monster that killed my father. It's crazy, right? I mean he rescued me from a demon, we had sex in a bathroom and he shows up a year later wanting to protect me?_

_I'm out of my mind. I didn't hesitate. I didn't even flinch. I just accepted it. Go with the flow, Halley. Follow that gut... If Mom were alive, I'd be getting the bridge jumping lecture._

_But it's worse than that - I lied to my boss. I told her Sam was my boyfriend. The one I thought got away. The first part isn't true...but the second part is._

_He fascinates me. The man I met a year ago is not the man who approached me in the hospital. I can't explain exactly what it other than to say the look in his eyes broke my heart. He wasn't the confident hero who stormed into my life and plagued my dreams after a single encounter. He looked lost. Afraid. _

_Of what I'm not entirely sure, but he looked afraid. And I guess I'm just that girl. The one who wants to fix things. Maybe I'm too gullible. Maybe this a risk I shouldn't take. But something tells me I can trust him. That he won't hurt me. Which is why I handed him the keys to my car..._

In the parking lot, I approach my Jeep with Sam following only a few steps behind me. I unlock the doors before turning to give him the keys. "How does this work?" I ask cautiously. "I mean, do you drive or..." He doesn't answer. I'm not sure what to do or what to say, so I just keep stumbling. "I mean I guess I need to grab some things from the house and..."

He takes the keys from my outstretched hand. Our fingers brush and a jolt of electricity filters through my body. It's like I've been struck by lightning. The sensations are different from what I felt before. He's shy and a faint blush spreads over his cheeks. It makes me feel like I'm a teenager all over again.

The first stretch of the drive is quiet. I give him directions, but he doesn't say anything. We're about to pass over the old bridge when he stops the car and pulls over. His breathing is heavy. He gets a far away look in his eye. I watch as he fumbles for the door handle and staggers out of the car. His footfall is heavy as he walks to the spot where we met.

I give him a moment before I approach him. My movements are slow. Standing a few feet away, I see his jaw tighten and his fists clench. It hurts to watch.

"What happened, Sam?" I ask finally. "You've changed."

He swallows and tilts his head back as if to admire the architecture, but I have every idea he's doing it to stem the flow of tears. I want to touch him. To comfort him. It probably sounds weird given what happened, but I can't help it. I'm drawn to him. Even more now than I was before.

His hands fall to his hips as he answers. "If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

I lean against the railing and look out over the river. I used to come here all the time. Now, except for passing over the bridge on my way home, I stay away. It's done nothing but make me think of him. Doing this here just seems fitting.

"Try me," I tell him, keeping my tone even. "I'd probably believe more than you think."

"Halley..." It's a growl. A warning. It's as though he's saying _don't go there_ without voicing the words. But if we're gonna be stuck together, I figure we need to get this out in the open.

"Look, Sam," I say, "If you were gonna scare me away, I'd be gone already. I know you don't wanna be here, I just...I can tell." He looks at me, his eyes almost puppyish, but I hold up my hand. "Let me finish. What happened last year? I'm not that kind of girl. But I think you know that. Looking at you now, I'm thinking you aren't that kind of guy either. Jo said you had headaches. Is it some kind of a brain thing? A tumor?"

"It's not that," he replies. He seems a million miles away.

"Then what is it?" I plead. "There's something going on here. I think we need to get through it so we can move forward."

He closes his eyes and rubs his brow. "Fine," he says. "You're right. It's..."

He pauses before looking at me. I have to fight to breathe. His eyes are beautiful. They aren't cold or unfeeling the way I remember them being. They're color you see in pictures of the ocean and filled with - fear? pain? trepidation? - countless emotions.

"You need to promise me you'll let me protect you anyway. That you'll stay." His voice is filled with pain and uncertainty. I wonder what happened to him. What could make him so...broken.

I tilt my head, feeling my eyes well with tears and my brow furrow. I nod.

He leans next to me. He doesn't touch me, but I can feel the warmth of his body. "God, I don't even know where to start," he sighs. "The beginning's too far back."

Unable to resist, I reach out and take his hand. He's already rescued me once, it's my turn to save him. "Just tell me the important part and you can fill in the blanks later."

He looks at our joined hands. His thumb strokes over mine. It's like he's surprised. Like he hasn't been touched enough. How he can look like _that_ and not be touched enough is beyond me.

Staring out at the water, he begins his story with the last thing I expected. "Your Dad was a minister, right? How much do you know about Michael and Lucifer?"

When he tells me his soul was trapped in Hell - that the man I met was an empty shell - I gasp. It's not that I don't buy his story. It's that I do. Faith is a funny thing. The cross around my neck and the teachings of my religion have taught me that sometimes you have to just believe.

Life isn't a movie. If this happened on the big screen, I probably would have scoffed. It's unbelievable. Impossible. Unreal. But the pain in Sam's eyes? The expectation of questions and disbelief? The fact that I'm being stalked by a demon? Things like that put this into an entirely different realm.

"So," he says, his muscles stiffening as he releases my hand. "That's about it. I have headaches because they put a wall up to keep me from remembering. But it isn't working. Bits and pieces are coming through."

"Like an old television, huh?" I ask, trying to lighten things.

He actually smiles. It's soft and sad, but it's a start. I decide I want to see more. More smiles. Maybe a laugh. "You believe me?"

"Shouldn't I?" I ask. "I am what I am. I've gotten in trouble for being trusting, but I have a feeling..." My voice trails off. I catch myself looking at his mouth.

I want to kiss him, but I know that's not what we're here for. He doesn't see me that way. He can't possibly. He's just here to protect me. And I'm okay with that. Guys like Sam - soulless or not - aren't interested in girls like me.

He scratches his head. "I guess I wasn't expecting it," he answers, oblivious to the spell he has me under. "I lived it and I'm not sure I believe." He notes the pink of the sky and leads me back to the car. "It's almost dark. We need to get moving."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sam draws his knife as we make our way up the porch steps. Somehow it seems natural. It's almost like watching the sheriff pull his gun. "Stay behind me."

We enter the house cautiously. Everything seems to be in it's place, but he checks the whole first floor anyway. I listen quietly, hearing the drip of the kitchen faucet and the hum of the old air conditioning unit. My heart quickens and I'm sure at any moment my cat will jump out and scare the bejeezus out of both of us.

Upstairs, I grab a suitcase out of the hall closet. I let the door the my bedroom swing open and I'm greeted with a grisly sight. The suitcase clatters to the floor in front of me.

Whiskers lays on the floor in a pool of blood. Blood that has been spread on the wall to create words.

_He can't protect you. You're next._

I sob as Sam's arms wrap around me. Strong. Warm. Safe. Mercifully protecting me from staring into the face of yet another loss by pulling me against his chest. "Don't look at it," he whispers. "Be strong. We'll get out as fast as we can."

Releasing me, he grabs the towel I carelessly tossed on the foot of the bed after drying my hair and drapes it over the body. I gulp for air and hurry to the bureau. I start throwing clothes into the luggage at my feet. Tears stream down my face.

I'm not sure how much more of this I can handle. How much more I can take. I start to say it, but I don't have to. I can tell he just _knows_.

"Tell me something about you," he says, coming to stand behind me. His hands rest on my shoulders as I continue to pack. "It's only fair we both learn something."

I know what he's doing. As a trauma nurse, I've employed the same tactic numerous times. But it's more than switching my focus to something else to calm me down. Standing a foot taller than me, he's using his body to block my view of the carnage.

"My Dad was a minister," I tell him softly. "But my Mom? She was a stargazer. A complete dreamer." I've hardly talked about her since her death four years ago, but this story is one of my favorites. "She was watching the comet streak across the sky when she went into labor with me. Dad wanted to name me Phoebe because of the biblical ties, but not Mom. Mom insisted on naming me Halley after the comet. And Dad? Dad loved her enough that he never could quite tell her no."

Sam shifts as I crouch to close the suitcase. I need to get out of this room. I don't know that I'll ever be able to come in here again. I pull the case out into the hallway, carrying the tote that was inside of it to the bathroom and filling it with my toiletries and hairbrush.

"Halley suits you," he says quietly.

"You think so?" I ask, looking at him for the first time since our discovery.

"Yeah," he answers. "I do."

_We got in the car after that and we drove. The miles spreading like peanut butter on warm toast - easily melting behind us as the darkness enveloped the truck in its grasp. _

_This isn't like the movies though. Everything doesn't just fade to black. This is only the beginning. It's odd feeling losing everything - your remaining parent, your pet, your home - in just over a week. _

_What's stranger is I'm standing on the edge of something else. I don't know what it is yet. But I think it's gonna change my life..._


	4. Running on Empty

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay... I was shocked and horrified to find this one hadn't been updated since December. Back injuries and scatterbrained muses suck.

You all can thank **FloatingAboveParis** for the sweet note she sent asking for more Sam and Halley. Her kind words motivated me to get a jump on finishing a few things I had started. This isn't as sexy as she hinted she wanted to see...but we're getting there. I promise.

Keep an eye out for a sexy OS featuring this pair tentatively titled _Through Her Eyes_. Steph says it'll make you cry_ and _melt your computer screens - and that's just what I've got so far!

Winchester hugs for **stephaniew** who has her own special way of encouraging me and bringing me home. A talented writer in her own right, she's put aside time to help wrangle my muse and soothe my rumpled confidence.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Supernatural._

Chapter Four: Running on Empty

It's nights like tonight that I almost understand my brother's love for the grip of tires on asphalt. It's not often I drive, even though Dean lets me behind the wheel significantly more often than he does Jo. Right now, with Halley sitting silently in the passenger seat staring out the window, watching the lines on the road steadily pass by is almost comforting.

It's getting late. There's no telling she's exhausted. I know we'll need to stop soon so she can sleep, but I want to get as far we can tonight. Everything in me - maybe it's the last remaining traces of Demon blood I won't ever be able to escape - says this thing is on the move.

I get off the exit for a small town. A place where I think we'll be off the radar. Better we don't draw attention to ourselves. Shifting the car into park at the office of a tiny motel, careful to leave it by the big picture window where I can keep an eye out, I turn to my duffle in the back seat.

Glancing at Halley, I debate whether or not to give her a weapon. She seems so fragile and lost sitting next to me. I slip a gun into the waist of my jeans at the small of my back and slide a knife into my boot for good measure. You can never be too careful.

I swallow, my hands resting on the steering wheel. I don't look at her. "This should only take a couple minutes," I say. "Stay in the car and lock the doors behind me. If you see anything strange, honk the horn."

From the corner of my eye, I see her nod and move to get out. I'm stopped by her hand grabbing mine. She tries to force a smile, a pale pink blush staining her cheeks. "Thank you," she says softly.

My head drops back against the headrest. "Don't, Halley," I manage, my voice shaky. "If it wasn't for me, you'd..."

"Be dead already," she finishes quietly. "You didn't have to come back, Sam. You've said there are more of your kind. You could've..."

"No," I tell her, shaking my head. "I couldn't. It had to be me. I had to fix this."

She squeezes my hand. "And you will."

I nod, hoping she's right and afraid she isn't. I make my way to the office, unable to keep from looking back at the car as I walk in. She really is something else and it brings a smile - a real one - to my lips.

Inside, the manager looks like he's about to roast. Sweat drips down his wrinkled brow and he blots it away with an old handkerchief. "You might wanna stay somewhere else, son. The AC here is busted."

I frown and look back at the car. She's tired. I am, too. The next closest motel is probably at least another hour away.

The old man grins. "She pushin' you to stop?" he asks, nodding to the Jeep.

I rub my hand over the back of my neck, feeling my cheeks redden as my eyes drop to the floor. The way he looks at me makes me uncomfortable, not that I'm terribly comfortable with the situation to begin with.

"Gotta be a woman. You haven't stopped looking at that truck since you came in here," he says. Shuffling, he turns to the keys hooked on the wall behind him.

While his back is turned, I look out the window. Definitely a woman...but no explanation for the warmth in my chest since I found her. She should want nothing to do with me and yet she's here despite everything that happened before.

"It's not much," his voice lures me back, "but it's clean. I'll give you one close to the ice machine and knock $10 off the rate."

Pulling out my wallet, I drop the bills on the counter and sign the paperwork. I catch myself almost writing one of the aliases Dean and I have used before quickly throwing the extra letter on the end to make one feminine. This would be interesting.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The owner really wasn't kidding when he said it was hot. The room has to be close to 85 degrees. My t-shirt clings to my skin and I'm debating how much I can take off without making Halley uncomfortable.

She sits on the end of one of the beds and slips out of her shoes, watching while I prep the room. Salt on the window sills and in front of the door. Iron stakes laid along the rocky, white lines. Dean and I had no idea what would work, so I did both.

Her long hair is still up and she's twisted it off of her neck. She steps into the bathroom and comes out with a damp washcloth. She strokes it over her face and places it on the back of her neck.

Spotting the bucket, I smile because I can at least help make her a little more comfortable. "I'll go get some ice," I tell her. "And I'll see if I can find something to drink."

She nods in agreement and leans back on her pillow. I open my mouth to speak and she silences me. "I know, Sam," she says. "Stay here and lock the door behind you."

For some reason, her words make me grin as I walk outside with the bucket. I head around the corner into the dimly lit alcove by the stairs and survey the contents of the vending machine. It occurs to me that I hadn't asked what she liked and I curse under my breath, wishing I was smooth like Dean.

Deciding on one diet and one regular, I feed dollar bills into the soda machine before turning to the snacks. Something salty and something sweet. Covering all the bases, I cram a bag of M&M's into my pocket and catch the edge of the bag of chips against the bucket. Finally turning to the ice, I open the freezer and sigh as a cool wall of air hits my face.

I'm scooping ice when I hear a scream and shattering glass. Racing back to the room, I see Halley pinned to the wall. The glow from the broken lamp casts an eerie shadow of the demon across the wall, making the smokey black aura that surrounds him grow larger and more threatening as he raises his arm. She slides up the wall with his motion, squirming and clawing at the invisible hands around her throat.

I freeze. It reminds me of Jessica. Reminds me of time I spent in the cage as Michael and Lucifer's plaything. Pain rips sharply through my temple and I double over. Fighting - for Halley's life as well as my own - I reach into my boot, my fingers wrapping around the hilt of the knife. I thrust blindly and red light fills the room.

Unsteady on my feet, I'm not sure how but I manage to catch her and keep her from tumbling to the floor. She clings to me, her arms winding around my neck. I feel her tears through my already damp shirt.

For a few minutes, I just hold her. She smells like powder and sunshine. The gentle curves of her frame melt into me and I swallow, gritting my teeth as the memory of watching her climax in the bathroom mirror slams into my consciousness.

Suddenly, holding her feels wrong. Dirty. Not because of her, but because of what I did. How I violated her. Clearing my throat, I release her. I keep her at arm's length hoping - praying - she doesn't feel my shame and disgust.

"We can't stay here," I say, forcing my vocal chords to work. "It isn't safe." In spite of everything I'm feeling, the look she gives me - the purity of her trust - makes me draw her back to my chest all over again. My fingers grip the nape of her neck, the weight of her braid heavy against the back of my hand. I know I should - that I have to - but I can't let her go. I can't bring myself to deny her the comfort she seeks.

Minutes pass. It's both forever and somehow not long enough. "Halley," I say finally, stroking my hand over her hair and forcing her to look at me. Bright blue eyes stare up at me and I get lost in them. I want to kiss her. I _almost_ kiss her. "We've gotta go."

She nods silently, her hands twisting in the hem of her shirt. Brushing the tears from her cheeks, she gives me a weak smile. It breaks my heart. More than I've ever wanted to help anyone else I've ever met, I want to help her. I want to end this.

We get back in the Jeep and drive. Tires meet the pavement and her soft sobs fill the air. I can't ignore them, so I reach across the console and slip my hand into hers.

"I don't know how long I can do this..." she tells me.

I take a deep breath. I'm not sure how long I can do it either. How long I can feel this...helpless. "Try to get some rest. Hopefully Dean and Jo will find something."

Tears shimmer in the moonlight as she closes her eyes. She continues to hold my hand, entwining our fingers. It takes a while, but her grip slackens and the tremble of her shoulders stops. She doesn't awaken when I withdraw my touch, nor does she stir when I get out of the truck and head into the office of another motel.

Halley's featherlight in my arms as I carry her to the room. Without turning on the light, I shift her weight and draw back the covers on the bed furthest from the door. Laying her down, I quietly remove her shoes and tuck her beneath the sheet.

Sitting on the edge of the mattress, I watch as she hugs herself in her sleep. She looks like an angel. It's like some cosmic joke. That someone so sweet - so innocent - could ever end up with someone as damaged as me is absurd. I don't have a chance. Not that it really matters. I won't be around long enough to find out.

I press a gentle kiss to her forehead before slipping out of my boots and flopping on the other bed. I remain alert. Sleep doesn't find me easily these days and, when it does, it's consumed by nightmares. And tonight's been enough of a nightmare without visions of Hell.


End file.
